


Demigod

by KJGooding



Series: Post-Canon Trill Revival [5]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Falling In Love, Gen, POV Elim Garak, Post-Episode: s04e24 The Quickening, Recovery, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21837430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KJGooding/pseuds/KJGooding
Summary: Julian leads a team to the Teplan homeworld to study the progress the population is making after receiving his antigen ten years ago.  Although he is greeted with a warm reception, spirits quickly change.  Through teaching, Elim learns there is good and bad in everyone - even Julian, his seemingly perfect partner, and even himself as he recovers from his past.** Can be read as a standalone, or as part of my Trill Revival series. **
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: Post-Canon Trill Revival [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1251704
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Demigod

**Author's Note:**

> If you aren't caught up to the Trill Revival story, you can still enjoy this piece! All you need to know is this:  
> \- Rali is Julian and Ezri's daughter. She is on the autism spectrum and very fond of symbionts and their non-verbal communication methods.   
> \- The Federation finally reached its breaking point with Julian's genetic background, and no longer supported some of his research projects. He is now commissioned by the Bajoran Militia, instead, who are much more supportive of him giving aid to oppressed races (Trill symbionts, Cardassians after the war, the Teplans, etc.)

**_2381_ **

“I found it quite a touching gesture, to introduce you to the boy you saved,” I said, pleased to see the members of my audience respond with charmed nods. “It must have been uniquely satisfying, to see such a clear indication that your antigen had been effective. I am sure it was difficult to leave, without knowing how your solution would play out.”

“Oh it was!” Bashir was never one to restrain his enthusiasm. “But it’s the same hope we’d have, as parents, that our children might become better than we were. We may not get to see the way things turn out in the end, but there’s something about confidence… giving it to ourselves and to the upcoming generation. Don’t you agree, Doctor?”

We were sitting down after dinner with our Teplan host, a newly-certified physician, and I must admit the look of awe and reverence on her face was quite similar to my own. I had watched the procession come to greet him as he stepped from the  _ Holana _ , leading a dignified little party of his own: myself, Rali, and two Bajoran medical students there to assist him. He had come to sign Doctor Rivek’s certification himself - his lack of Starfleet commission did nothing to strip away his presence on the Federation Medical Board - and to install some additional training resources now that he was not limited by the same thinly-stretched organization. And, of course, he had come to see what progress the community had made since his last fateful visit. 

Bashir had mentioned the whole ordeal to me years ago, with casual and professional indifference, and an underlying tone of melancholy. Of course he had come in response to a distress call and not found himself useful until he had created a vaccine for what was effectively a planet-wide plague. Of  _ course  _ he had. I might’ve sighed, when he first told me, and glanced a bit sideways at him for the rest of our lunch to see if that might corral his ego, but now I felt pride of my own, of a similar magnitude. 

The Teplans were emerging slowly but proudly from the ruins of their own ancient battle with the Dominion, grasping for medical technology beyond what Bashir had gifted them. Doctor Rivek was a fine conversationalist, and nodded consolingly as I began to describe Cardassia’s ruinous involvement with the Dominion. She recognized the distinct absence of an illness, and I caught Bashir’s line of thought before he could vocalize it for himself. 

“Yes, they were suffering one of their own, as a matter of fact,” I said. “And Doctor Bashir--”

“You created it?” Rivek asked, turning to look at him. Oh, I was beginning to like her, but found it maddening - the same sense of naivete Bashir possessed a Terran decade ago. Her eyes were wide with surprise - whether shock that he might harm someone, or awe at his talents, I could not discern.

“I cured it,” Bashir said.

Perhaps he was trying to sound modest - his tone was  _ different _ , somehow - but I had known him too long to think he did not take every indulgence in discussing his achievements. Especially since his genetic background had become public knowledge. Oh, he took on more and more ambitious research after that, and eventually disowned Starfleet in the way they disowned him. As I may have mentioned, I could not have been more proud.

“You…  _ cured  _ it?” Rivek asked. 

“Yes. One of them was a friend of mine, and I-- it doesn’t matter.  _ Yes _ , I cured it. I would’ve done the same for anyone.”

“And you  _ do _ , to almost an infuriating degree,” I said, hoping to ease the tension. “Don’t you think so, Doctor Rivek?”

The Teplan’s face was marked with lesions, made more visible when she wrinkled up her eyes and scowled. I suppose the news would have made anyone unhappy, let alone anyone whose people suffered under the hand of the Dominion for centuries.

“Why would you save  _ them _ , and not us?!” she raised her voice above its previous level, and Bashir braced himself for more. He’d learned to debate well enough with me, but the circumstances were different when one’s sparring partner was genuinely upset. 

“I did everything I could for you. And I  _ have  _ saved every Teplan born in the last ten years, every Teplan born today, tomorrow,  _ forever _ afterward. What more could you want from me? I can give you sympathy, you can take or leave my training courses, but that’s  _ all  _ I can do for anyone who is already afflicted.”

Until now, Rali had spent the evening asleep in her father’s lap, sitting as a picture perfect illustration of his faith in a better future. The Teplans gave her similar adoration, with only a few of the first ones we met making comments about the marks on her face - they were concerned, or so I was told. But Bashir was so careful about the way he carried himself in her presence, down to each word and breath and gentle tap of his finger on her shoulder to get her attention. For him to raise his voice was enough to stir her instantly, and she awoke with an unhappy look on her face. 

He apologized first to her, then to our host. 

“I think we’d best head back to the field center for the night,” he said. “Perhaps we could continue our… conversation… tomorrow?”

“Perhaps,” Rivek said, and we excused ourselves in haste. 

I walked a pace ahead of Bashir, because I saw better in the darkness. Teplan technology lacked intelligent outdoor lighting, and the solar collection panels had faded into black several hours ago. We had not intended to be out so late, and I took the opportunity to apologize. 

“There was no reason for me to bring up the Founders,” I said. 

Bashir shrugged.

“No, but that’s alright. There was no need for you to go on for an  _ hour  _ about my resignation from Starfleet, either.”

“Oh, but my  _ dear _ ,” I pleaded, “that is without a doubt your most impressive achievement. I expected Doctor Rivek to be fascinated by your breakthrough with the Trill population. They all seemed so interested, when we were first introduced at the field center.”

He held Rali closer against his chest, unbothered by the burden even though she was nearly five years old, and capable of walking competently on her own. My father would’ve-- no, this was about making improvements in our children, every word of it. I digress. 

“Well,” Bashir said, in the matter-of-fact tone I had come to love, “that was before Lucifer fell.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s an ancient religious parable from Earth,” he went on, seeming overstimulated, and waving his hand to satisfy his frustration. “Lucifer was an angel - this divine and almost perfect being - but it wasn’t enough for him, somehow, and he got so wrapped up in his own goodness that he thought himself superior to god. And then his pride became his punishment, in a way, and he fell from heaven, and wound up ruling hell as the ultimate manifestation of evil.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Is there nothing in between?”

“ _ Earth _ was considered to be between heaven and hell for some time, I suppose, before we really began studying star charts and understanding nothing could be above  _ or  _ below the Earth, so to speak.”

“No, I mean between the angelic being and the evil one.”

“Oh, you mean a character who’s more accessible to a Cardassian audience?” he teased, frustration finally beginning to dull. “Anything morally grey? In that particular parable, no. It was either good or evil, in early human development.”

“Then we can’t fault the Teplans for having a similarly bland outlook,” I assured him. “I have no doubt you’ll redeem yourself.”

“Maybe so,” he said bitterly, “but not to Doctor Rivek. Whenever her blight becomes active, there won’t be a single thing I can do for her.”

“No, but for every child she will deliver as a physician.”

“She doesn’t seem to understand that, yet.”

“I am sure she does, or she would not have pursued your courses in the first place. From what I recall of your initial description, the antigen needed to be widely distributed, and for that to happen, the entire population needed to have faith in you.”

“Yes, yes,” Bashir sounded annoyed again. “I’d rather sleep on this one, if you don’t mind. I don’t want our visit cut short over some disagreement with the leading medical authority in the region.”

“She would be  _ very  _ foolish indeed, to send your team away early.”

Bashir kissed Rali’s cheek and said nothing else for the remainder of the walk to the field center. As he promised, he retired to bed shortly after ensuring Rali was comfortable. I was left pacing in the small room we were borrowing, trying to fathom how these people could begin to turn on him. It had been almost nine years since he had helped them, and even  _ I  _ had come to terms with his benevolence in a shorter period. I would not have his latest humanitarian project ruined over a spat with an inexperienced doctor, that was certain. 

Out of goodness, curiosity, and a bit of spare time, Bashir had orchestrated a trip with two of his top Bajoran students - and Rali, and myself - to provide relief and education to the Teplan population. The adults were still afflicted by the blight, although more and more children were born each day who were free from the pockmarks. And that was not enough for them? On Cardassia, Bashir’s noble solution would have been celebrated for centuries. To think of children - think, and  _ do _ \- before oneself. That was something we had always preached but never practiced, as Bashir might have said, and I simply could not believe these people were beginning to lose the grace they had loaned to my partner only a few years ago.

It was only one displeased voice, so far, but as I was always taught, even one unaligned voice could be effective, either dangerous or divine. 

I thought more about that peculiar parable as I finally went to bed, laying beside my restless partner.

***

The following morning, I awoke to find Bashir gone. My hearing was only helpful after I stood and went to wipe my face clean, leaning over the basin beside the door. I could hear Bashir outside with his students, and after I had changed my clothing, I went out to find the three of them poring over Bashir’s collection of padds, with Rali seated on Bashir’s lap skimming a storybook of her own. 

“The next step would be establishing orphanages, right?” one of the students - Rosser - asked.

Both Rosser and the other student - Owaca - were too young to remember any of the deepest horrors of the Occupation, and I sensed no real resentment in their presence. They were children, then, and clearly much better off now than their parents had been before them. They were bright and passionate, studious and dedicated, a perfect combination for an errand like ours. 

Bashir sighed. 

“Technically, yes,” he said, looking down at the itemized Reconstruction list Rosser was reading from. “But I don’t think the Teplans are open to any reminders of their affliction, right now.”

Owaca was newly married to a Bajoran security officer - another young woman who patrolled the university on Cardassia - and she guided by her love more than anything. She spoke frequently and fondly of her spouse, and often speculated aloud about the life they would build together, enough that I could recall several key details. This argument struck her instantly, as I knew it would. 

“Of course,” she said solemnly. “I wouldn’t want to hear that I won’t get the chance to raise my child.”

As she sorted through the padds, setting aside the volumes dedicated to orphanage establishment, she winced and withdrew her finger. I could see she had cut it on a data-rod, not fully inserted into its slot. Bashir took her hand in his immediately - I expected he would glance up and notice me, but he moved his full attention from the text to his new patient, and I admired him for it. 

He mumbled an apology - he could not use any instruments which might emit an electronic signature, as they had a history of speeding the Teplan blight’s progression - and took a roll of gauze from his medical kit, ever-present at his side. 

“But yes, you were exactly right,” Bashir replied, swabbing her finger and then wrapping it in one smooth motion. “So, in this case, we’ll gloss over sections 4.1 through 4.8, and start up again at the ‘facility inspections' header in 4.9."

“What facilities?” Rosser asked, concerned more with pragmatism than his colleague. His hair had gone prematurely gray, while Owaca’s was bright red like rust, and I could not help but think how their temperaments were displayed in this way.

“Well… Trevean distributed the antigen from his… I wouldn’t have called it a ‘hospital’ at the time, but his, er… death facility. Then we have the Midwives’ courses being taught at the camp beneath the Mural. I’d like to inspect those first, actually, to make sure they’re meeting sanitation requirements.”

“Corporal Owaca would be better suited to that,” Rosser decided for himself. “I’d prefer to visit the hospital, Sir.”

“Noted, but we won’t be splitting up any time soon. I have the feeling Doctor Rivek is about to withdraw her hospitality, and I don’t want anyone dealing with the fallout alone. Oh, Elim,” he softened his voice as he noticed me approaching, “you picked up a similar impression from her, didn’t you?”

“I did,” I said; Bashir knew that when my statements were brief, they were generally true. 

“After that huge procession yesterday?” Owaca asked, taken aback.

“She wasn’t happy to hear that I cured the morphogenic virus in the Founders,” he said, raising only one shoulder because Rali was leaning her back against the other.

“Does she know you ended a  _ war _ ?” Owaca went on, already sounding fully committed to defending Bashir’s honor. I respected the tenacity held by most Bajoran women; I always had. 

“I didn’t really get a chance to explain.”

“Oh, I plan to make that  _ quite  _ clear,” I offered, standing behind him to offer my support, and setting my hand down on his shoulder. 

Rali turned and looked up at me, so I did my best to give her a friendly smile. 

“Don’t get us into more trouble,” Bashir pleaded weakly, comically. 

“I don’t intend to.”

“I can never tell with you,” he said back. 

I began - slowly - to pull my hand away, but Bashir caught it and leaned forward enough to kiss me. The angle was peculiar - myself stooping and Bashir stretching from his chair - but it was effective in quieting me, quelling the argument as well as any uncertainties beginning to build inside me. They always came, whenever my commitment to him was questioned. But Bashir himself was usually the one to question it, in his own self-deprecating way, perhaps to make up for his prior years of arrogance. We had felt unworthy of one another for quite some time, and it was slow, delicate work to undo. 

“I can be very persuasive,” I said. 

“Taya Elim,” Rali contributed in a quiet voice, clapping her hands together and holding them that way. 

“The very same,” I encouraged.

“The one and only,” Bashir added.

I squeezed his shoulder; he repeated the gesture on my hand, resting safely beneath his. 

“I’ll find you at the compound by the Mural, later this afternoon,” I promised, on my way out the door.

***

In truth, I did not know where I would find Doctor Rivek, or if she perhaps began her days working beneath the mural too. I wanted to take in the sights of the famished city, to understand why they might still hold onto such outdated views of good and evil. 

It became clear after only several streets that the procession which received us upon arrival had exhausted their resources, spared no luxury. Clumsily-sewn banners stretched between stone rafters to offer shade, merchants passed through the streets with foods stewing in the heat atop their carts, order seemed to be enforced purely through sneers and bargaining through the touching of one’s own lesions. It was piteous, because it reminded me of my home. I had  _ faith  _ \- something no doubt inflicted upon me by my Bajoran and Federation associates - that we would rebuild. But how could this planet do so, if their adult population continued dying out? I understood Doctor Rivek’s frustration, but I could not find cause to share it. A solution occurred to me: perhaps we could find someone willing to establish a permanent presence here, someone to raise and teach the young Teplans after the majority of the adults had passed. But I remained confident Bashir had done everything he could to help them years ago, and in fact some of the basic medical equipment he had left behind with them extended many lifespans considerably. 

Perhaps they began to value him too highly, I thought. Within a short period, he delivered to them an impossible miracle, a child free from the plague every citizen had carried for centuries. Perhaps his confidence wore off on them in too high a dosage; he was only a physician, after all, and not some infallible deity. 

Nor were the Founders, nor the Bajoran Prophets. I needed Doctor Rivek to understand this. 

I passed the Mural and observed some of the activity there. It was a busy facility, with expectant mothers filtering in and out; I could not see Bashir or his students, but assumed they were at work inside. From what I understood, it was the only facility of its kind in the region, and possibly on the entire planet. The antigen was distributed planetwide, but those who wished to have their birthing process overseen in a relatively clean environment were required to make the journey here, to this canvas hospital beneath the painting. Bashir was here to make inspections, here to train Teplans who could establish their own private practices in other regions, and here to ensure his vaccine was still effective even after the Teplans replicated the original components. 

As had often happened in my reconnaissance outings, Doctor Rivek appeared to me before I needed to go searching specifically for her. I took guesses at her routine, and found my assumptions well rewarded. I caught her on her way to work. 

“Doctor,” I began cordially, but had no intention of continuing that way. “Do you have a moment?”

She looked over her shoulder for an excuse but found none, so she conceded. 

“What,” she said flatly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, you do  _ seem  _ busy. Are you sure there isn’t a--?” asking twice generally guarantees you will get the answer you want, and I was relieved to have her interrupt me as such. 

“It’s fine, Ambassador Garak. I was hoping to find Doctor Bashir here, so we could continue our discussion.”

“Ah. Well, I believe he’s occupied with touring the facility, at the moment. I was hoping to clarify something on his behalf.”

“I need to talk to  _ him _ ,” Rivek insisted.

The Teplans  _ did  _ keep a very basic worldview, there was no doubt of that. Could she not understand that his partner might share his perspective? Or was she smarter than I took her for - was she assuming I would be biased in my appraisal?

“I need you to listen to  _ me _ ,” I replied. “Have you spent every day of the last decade of your life fearing death?”

“Yes,” she said right away, and glanced over her shoulder again. 

It was bright and sunny where we stood, decidedly uncomfortable if the argument would drag out, but I did not plan to move elsewhere. 

“But you were a child when Doctor Bashir was here, the first time. You lived in another region, and you heard stories about what he had done - they must have sounded like impossible legends - and you  _ still  _ feared death?”

“For as long as I can remember.”

She took a step back from me, and I resisted the urge to grab her arm and bring her forward again. Instead, I copied the movement, remaining the same distance away from her. 

“So have I,” I said, in an impassioned voice. “Even  _ before  _ the Dominion came to my planet, to my home, and burned it beyond recognition. You have  _ no right  _ to continue feeling the same way, after Doctor Bashir came here to  _ save you _ .”

I did not find her objectively unintelligent, but she did not seem to understand the argument. 

“You aren’t on your planet,” she said, taking a verbal step sideways. 

“No, because I can trust my people to rebuild, even if I am not there to watch them. We are here to help  _ you _ , because you seem to need assistance more sorely than I do.” I had a more elaborate explanation planned, but I simplified it as best I could: “That’s what Doctor Bashir does, he  _ helps _ .”

“I don’t understand why he would help the people who did this to us,” she reasoned, and that was fair enough, although it was centuries behind the parallels I was trying to draw. Centuries. 

“Did you know,” I tried a more accessible tactic, “that some races considered the Dominion to be gods? You would not consider them that way, though, would you? And neither would I, after what damage they’ve done. But one cannot argue with the fact they were  _ powerful _ , hmm? Some see power alone as an indication of goodness, and that is simply not the case. Doctor Bashir did everything in his power to help  _ you _ , and everyone here, whether they were adults or children or unrealized urges in their parents’ hearts. One’s ambition is sometimes greater than one’s power, and that is the only way to measure good intention.”

She was quiet, and I feared I had elevated the discussion out of reach again, but eventually she cleared her throat and replied to me.

“He was too ambitious,” she surmised, “to be  _ too  _ good. But it doesn’t change the fact he healed the people who did this to me.”

Doctor Rivek held out her forearms in indication. It was impossible not to notice the lesions, splintering red across her skin. I pitied her, an emotional response which I no longer found dangerous. That was it in the end, wasn’t it?

“He would help anyone. He helped  _ me _ , and you would shudder to hear some of the things I have done. If you take nothing else from this exchange, understand this: regardless of one’s past, there is always potential to improve their future. Doctor Bashir taught me that by example.  _ He would help anyone _ . He has  _ nothing  _ but hope for you, and his only ambition is to help you reach your full potential. Maybe not you,  _ personally _ , but your people, your entire planet.”

The nature of my memory - that of all Cardassians, in fact - was deeply and rapidly associative, and I could not help but recall the welcoming procession again. The bright yellow banners, the clean garments, the aromatic street-foods, the elaborate dances the Teplans did in celebration, the way the first child Bashir had saved led the group and came to hesitantly embrace his savior. 

“When you think of that boy,” I said, mistakenly assuming she would follow the same mnemonic pattern I had, “do you think  _ he  _ spends every waking moment fearing his death?”

“No,” she admitted. 

“ _ That  _ is why you’re a doctor. And why Bashir is, too.”

She was quiet for a long while after that - something which had always, to me, signalled the admission of defeat in debate. It was such a rare and precious occurrence on Cardassia, one I no longer saw much need for. I cleared my throat, ready to guide her gently back to the discussion, but she finally spoke. 

“I think I see,” she said, and that was all I needed to hear. 

Amiably, we parted ways, and I proceeded to meet Bashir and his team as promised. Rivek seemed to have more pressing issues on her mind, and did not follow me. 

I found the group easily, at our designated meeting place beneath the Mural, only a short walk away. If I were human, I would have begun the encounter with an unnecessary question: ‘is everything alright?’ But because I - thankfully - was not, I relied on my perception to assume otherwise. 

Rali was bundled up tightly in her father’s arms, with Owaca leaning in and babbling nonsense in an attempt to reassure her, all while Rosser kept watch. I skipped over several other unimportant questions in favor of:

“Who hurt her?”

Julian shook his head at me. 

“No one. She’s fine. If anything, I shouldn’t’ve intervened as soon as I did, she was about to-- I mean, she needs to learn how to socialize, whether it’s-- I thought it would be good for her to spend time with children her own age, for a change, and--”

“Julian,” I said, offering my hand forward as a silent request for him to slow down. “Shall we walk back to the field center, my dear?”

He allowed me to guide him, and his students followed us at a distance of several paces. I said ‘hello’ to Rali, thrilled to see her glance up from her safe hiding place against Bashir’s shoulder. Oh, she had been crying. There were little flecks of blue on her face - one of her favorite shades to paint with - but most had been displaced by tears. The questions I had spared Bashir were vital to Rali’s understanding of the situation; I knew to speak to her as often as the chance presented itself. 

“Now, what is the matter,  _ sweetheart _ ?” I used the term purely because Bashir did, and it usually resulted in a positive reaction. But the word must’ve sounded strange in an accent different from her father’s, because she did not acknowledge me.

Bashir nudged her, and she looked into his eyes for a moment before turning and looking hopelessly back at me. 

“You need to answer, Rali,” he told her. “Words or hand-signs are fine. Did you hear Taya Elim’s question?”

She nodded, then burrowed her head back into Bashir’s shoulder and - after a moment - I heard a muffled response of, “I painted.”

“That’s right,” Bashir said, and he nuzzled his head to hers, and I could have wept - selfishly - for all I began to realize had been lacking from my upbringing. 

“They didn’t like it,” Rali added, melting into the reassurance exactly as I would’ve, myself. 

“That’s right,” Bashir said again. “Sometimes we don’t understand each other correctly, even if we aren’t doing anything bad. Right?”

I saw her nodding weakly, ruffling the shoulder pad on Bashir’s uniform. 

He held her more tightly - I got the impression both of them enjoyed the pressure - and then spoke more to reassure himself than anyone else. 

“I knew you’d get it,” he said. “You just needed some time.”

Gently, I touched his arm. Oh, we were still several minutes’ walk from the field center, but I saw no danger in a public display of encouragement. Bashir looked down at my hand just in time for me to withdraw it, and his eyes followed its path up, up until I touched my chest to show my affection. His gaze drifted from there, until it met my own, which I ensured was softer than usual given the circumstances. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I assume you... spoke to Doctor Rivek?”

“I did indeed,” I replied.

“ _ And _ ?”

“I must say, she seems like she wants to understand you, despite finding your position quite difficult to grasp.”

“Right...” he raked one hand back through his hair, breathed a warm but shaky breath against Rali’s temple, and looked more nervous than I had seen him in years. 

I had to soothe him:

“But never mind that, now. We have more pressing matters at hand, don’t we?”

This earned a smile from him, thin and exhausted but charmed nonetheless. And charming, ever so much. It was the greatest reaction I could get. 

“I guess we do,” he said. 

He allowed me to precede him the rest of the way to the field center, where I opened the fasteners on the canvas door and held it open so he could pass through with ease. His students maintained the respectful distance throughout our walk, and thanked me earnestly for holding the panel up for them to enter, as well.

“Doctor…” Owaca began, in the sweetest voice, once all of us were huddled safely in the shade, “would you like the two of us to continue--?”

“Continue the population projections,” he understood. “Yes, thank you. We’ll just… be over here…”

Both of us, by nature of our personalities and our professions, were accustomed to working in uncomfortable spaces like this one, small and crowded and not nearly as private as we would have preferred. With the pulling taut of another canvas panel, we made believe we were in a room of our own. Our cots were situated in this area, and Bashir was finally able to set Rali down somewhere vaguely familiar to her. He dug through his suitcase for her plush toy, providing it as urgently as he would with a hypospray to a patient in need. He placed it securely in her hands, then brushed her hair from her eyes, and sat down on the cot beside her. 

“So Rivek was--” he began. 

I knew better than to shush him, but I needed to interject.

“Coming around, yes. We can discuss the details later, my dear.”

The cot was too small for me to join them on, but I stood in front of them and looked on intently. 

“I hardly expected this to be a  _ vacation _ ,” Bashir said, resting his head in his hands, “but I knew we were going to the birthing center - not a morgue or anything - and… some of the Teplans offered to bring their children, anyway, for me to check up on. And I thought it would be great for Rali to have the chance to socialize, she has a universal translator, I--”

“Which does little to interpret the figurative meaning of foreign concepts, at times.”

“Right.”

“And  _ nothing  _ to interpreting physical gesture, or which colors of paint are appropriate and which might cause a Teplan child, say, to worry they had become infected with the blight.”

“Yes...?”

“You sound surprised,” I said, touching my chest again, in a demonstration of modesty. “I aim to be perceptive at all times, dear. Especially when we are in unfamiliar territory.”

“Well,” he clapped his hands together and set them in his lap, “we don’t need to stay much longer. The population projections are the final phase of the curriculum, and we can establish from off-site. I imagine we would need to provide staff for it, anyway. I’ll need to comm Vedek Kira, and then--”

I flashed my hand forward, trying to slow him again. 

“You’re doing wonderful and necessary work here, Julian,” I said softly. “I will stay and support you until it is done.”

Rali was watching us, and although she was often quiet, she was rarely disengaged. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her lips trembling. 

“You don’t need to be sorry, darling,” Bashir assured her. “You haven’t done anything wrong. The children here think blue markings on their faces will make them sick. They weren’t scared of  _ you _ .”

Rather than speak again, she turned one of her hands over, drawing it up from the plush toy and making a questioning gesture with it. Bashir always translated these aloud, to make sure he understood her correctly - a practice the Teplan children could have easily accommodated, had they known. 

“Will the blue paint make them sick?” he clarified, “No, no of course not. You don’t make Taya Elim or I sick, right?”

“Right,” she agreed, very quietly. 

“Some children use more words than you, and some use less,” Bashir went on. “You won’t always understand each other, but you are  _ not  _ in trouble for that. Not with me. Alright?”

She nodded, and he cupped her cheek to reassure her. 

“You are  _ never  _ in trouble, for that, with me,” he said slowly, and she continued to nod with each word. “Good girl. I love you.”

Only a few months ago, I would’ve felt like an intruder at the foot of this scene, watching him hug her, tickle her side, smile as she shrieked with laughter. But I knew, now, that I was a welcome part of this, and I felt I owed an indescribable duty to this child, one I knew would not have been accommodated in my culture in a previous generation. Nor, I supposed, in Bashir’s childhood home. I came from a place where speech was valuable, where words invoked power, but there was strength in the way she chose to  _ listen _ , instead, and it was a lesson I tried to learn from her every day. 

“Are you ready for bed, darling?” Bashir asked her gently. “You and Dax?”

He indicated the stuffed toy, waited patiently for Rali to nod, and then set to tucking her in beneath the single blanket the room was allotted, taking extra care to place Dax where it belonged. For a long while, he remained seated at the foot of the bed, stroking her hair and touching her cheek with the back of his hand, until he was satisfied that she was asleep. 

Then he stood, and moved forward to embrace me, keeping his arms relatively loose, just as I preferred. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

There was no game, here. No need to ask what he meant when it was so heartachingly obvious. But Bashir was rarely one to preserve a silence, and I felt some of his nerves melt away as he spoke them into words. 

“I hope I’m doing this right,” he said. “I  _ know  _ one of her parents is a completely nonverbal non-humanoid, and then one of them is  _ me _ , and I just-- I want to do what’s best for her. I don’t want to change her. But… but I think if I’d been given a  _ choice _ , when I was old enough to understand…? I don’t think I would’ve said ‘no.’”

“Oh, I understand all too well, my dear. I didn’t say ‘no’ myself, either.”

“I mean the only change I can see her wanting to make is Joining when she’s old enough, and I don’t want to influence her one way or another. It’s very important to me that she doesn’t… think I’ve forced her.” 

“Or she might join the Federation, instead,” I said, driving the conversation precisely where I wanted it to go: toward making Bashir feel at home with me. “Her mother is quite ambitious, in that regard.” 

“Ezri’s commission is important to her. That’s where she went to get away from  _ her  _ controlling parents. And it was good to me for many years.”

“That is  _ deeply  _ untrue,” I said, looking him right in the eyes.

“No it isn’t. I was respected there, I was  _ happy _ , everything was fine until word of my augmentation got out. There’s really nothing I could do about  _ that _ .”

“Oh, my  _ dear _ Julian. You’re making my point for me. The Federation used you the same way they used me - for their own gain. When some mistake from your past came into light - something done without your knowledge, I might add - they  _ immediately  _ ceased extending to you  _ any  _ respect or decency, like the hypocrites they are. But  _ you _ , on the other hand… oh,  _ you _ . I have admitted to numerous atrocities from my own past - crimes I have  _ knowingly _ committed - and you have  _ never  _ wavered in demonstrating your concern for me. To the point, dare I say, of recklessness. It’s astonishing to me. You are so much more than--”

“Don’t say it, Elim. Really. You  _ do  _ deserve to be loved.”

“--more than the Federation deserved,” I said, in conclusion. “But thank you, yes. That’s a lovely sentiment. I hope you’ll keep the same in mind, Julian.”

I passed him, letting my hand linger along his back and shoulder, as I took my time in opening the divider and stepping through. The rest of the tent was quiet, quiet enough that I could hear him following me, the narrow soles of his Bajoran boots padding along through the dirt. It appeared his students had retired to their own cots for the night, behind the cover of other canvas panels, and without bothering to ask for the current time, I decided I would do the same. 

Our bed was situated near Rali’s, with only the false wall separating us. Bashir settled down on the side of the bed nearest to her, in case he found himself called upon in the middle of the night. I expected he would also fall asleep facing this direction, but to my surprise, he rolled over and curled one arm lazily over my midsection. 

I felt his breath hitting the wide scales on the back of my neck, warm and pleasant. 

“I  _ hope  _ I’m the man you deserve,” he voiced, after a while. 

I did not bother turning over to see his expression; I was enjoying our current arrangement too much. Instead, I brought one of my hands down to his, and held him gently in place. 

“What was the word again, hmm?” I softly asked. “Angel. I could see you that way, I’m sure. Rali certainly does already. Now, I hope that soothes your worry, if not your ego.”

“Oh, perfect. No pressure or anything,” he replied, laughing slightly. 

“Perfect,” I said back, and then we quieted down and let ourselves sleep.

***

By daylight, all of us were awake, perpetually rearranging the canvas panels and preparing for the day. It was a small marvel to me, how I had learned to adjust to the circumstances of a home. Perhaps I was so desperate for one, wherever I went, that I found I was no longer bothered by the notion of sharing a packet of water with a young Bajoran, or hastily patching a tear in a plush toy before its owner awoke and noticed. Bashir stood behind me and watched me as I sewed up the tiniest of rips in plush-Dax’s underbelly, a bar of candied fruit in his hand. He tipped the yet-unbitten end of it toward me, in offering. 

“No thank you,” I said, inwardly delighted with the casual nature of it all. 

He turned away without looking hurt, and went to find something else to give me for breakfast. Rosser and Owaca seemed satisfied with the rations bars, and ate them quietly as they stooped over their collection of padds. 

“You’ve changed that bandage haven’t you, Desen?” Bashir called, from his post beside our crate of food.

“Last night,” Owaca replied, barely glancing up. 

“I told her twice,” Rosser added. 

As Bashir returned to my side, after rifling through the rations packets for something vaguely Cardassian in flavor, Owaca stood and excused herself to her semi-private sleeping area. Rali arrived shortly after, taking slow, shuffling steps, looking down to watch the dirt form little hills in front of her feet. 

“Good morning, Rali,” I said. “Are you hungry?”

She came to sit beside me at the table, and I offered her a taste from my rations bar, in the same way Bashir had done for me. It felt as if I had served in this role for years, and it was no longer to pay back debts I had never settled with the Bajoran orphans I passed far too often in my younger days. No, this was done out of genuine concern and appreciation, for her and for her father. 

Of course, she found the toy symbiont more appealing than my reconstituted regova yolk paste - I could hardly blame her - and Bashir gave me a grateful nod of acknowledgement before disappearing to the rations box once again. 

“I’m going to comm Vedek Kira this evening,” Bashir said - presumedly to Rosser, although I also found our talks with Kira illuminating. “We can get resources for the orphanages from her Order, I’m sure of that.”

“Why are you still so eager to leave?” I asked. 

Bashir combined a shrug with depositing a packet of dry cereal on the table for Rali. 

“I’m not eager to  _ leave _ , but it would be nice to be home, wouldn’t it? We’ve done everything we needed to, here. I don’t want to offend the rest of the population.”

“Believe me, it isn’t  _ that  _ hopeless,” I said. “Doctor Rivek seemed willing to discuss your merits once she had some time to think them over, and--”

Since there was no door to knock on, what we heard instead was a rapid tugging apart of canvas, screeching over the metal bar that held it up.

“Speak of the devil,” Bashir said. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Never mind. Probably not the best choice of phrase. I think that’s Doctor Rivek now, is what I meant.”

He stepped out of our communal room and into the front one, where indeed he did run into Doctor Rivek. 

“Doctor,” I heard him say, “please come in. We were just finishing our last projections. Would you like to watch with us? Once the formula is inputted into this program, it will--”

“No, thank you,” she replied. 

“Then would you like… something to eat?”

Bashir came into view again, with Rivek barely a step behind him. He made a sweeping gesture toward the food box, but Rivek declined again. 

“I don’t want to seem inconsiderate,” Bashir said plainly. “You’ve been perfectly hospitable, but if my methods make you uncomfortable, then I… we can be ready to leave in a few hours, if you’d like us to. Because I can’t take back what I did for the Founders, and I don’t want  _ you  _ to try and give back what I’ve done for you.”

He sighed, apparently upset with himself for bringing all of this up again. The underlying stress was focused around Rali, I knew. He did not want to keep her anywhere she felt uncomfortable, but his other primary duty was to his patients, and he was trying to balance both at acceptable, intentionally uneven levels. 

“No,” Rivek said, after a long moment, “I want you to stay.”

“I… will,” Bashir said, keeping his surprise under control. “But we  _ are  _ almost finished, anyway.”

“After that, I want you to stay,” she clarified. “Your partner brought some important things to my attention and I think I was immature, before.”

“Yes, we thought that might be an issue, as well. I’m sorry— er… thank you for your apology, that  _ certainly _ comes from a place of maturity, and I appreciate it. What I mean is… we’re planning to send a team to remain on the planet, to improve your education system so future generations aren’t, um… living on the streets, and raising each other. We want to see an improvement in infrastructure, and that’s been… impossible for you to do.”

“Because we continue to die.”

“That’s right,” he sounded nervous, guilty even though he was not. 

“But you want some part of us to live on…” she said, coming to an understanding. 

“Yes. Your children.”

He stepped toward Rali and myself, still at the table, and offered his arms out to her. With some assistance from me, she climbed over, and immediately set to tapping her fingers over his arm. At times she chose not to speak but still wished to convey a concept, Bashir had informed me she would press out a code of approximated Trill letters. I had not yet been trusted with receiving any of her messages, myself, but I tried privately to familiarize myself with some of the alphabet so I would be prepared, when the honor was bestowed. 

“Just a moment, sweetheart,” I pleaded to her, then to— “Julian?” 

Once he balanced her over his hip, he held his hand out for her to tap her thoughts on. I always admired how he kept the exchanges private, either whispering his replies to her or offering standard reassuring touches with his hand. They were partway through their silent exchange when Corporal Owaca came back into the room, holding her injured finger tight in her other hand. 

“Doctor…?” She interrupted quietly. 

Bashir turned, then so did Rivek. 

In one graceful swoop, Bashir returned Rali to my arms, and reached out to Owaca, holding her steady even as he stumbled to close the gap between them. 

“I irrigated it with the isotonic saline last night. Then the—“ Owaca began. 

“That should’ve kept it sterile…” Bashir mumbled to himself, turning her finger over for further inspection. “Did you remove the wrap at any point before that, yesterday?” 

She gasped, and then she and Bashir stared at one another. 

“I did. You had me sit in on that first obstetric exam. I had gloves, but I—”

“Well that… minimizes the possibility of it spreading, but doesn’t eliminate it completely, especially in a setting like that.”

“May I see it?” Rivek asked, stepping closer. “What is it?”

“I’ve narrowed it down to about a dozen possibilities. But I’m not sure yet,” he said.

“I can fetch your tricorder from the  _ Holana _ , dear,” I proposed. 

For a moment, his eyes sparked with curiosity, but I watched them dim immediately afterward. 

“No, I won’t bring anything to the surface that could compromise the Teplans’ lesions. EM fields accelerate the Quickening process. But if I could transport up for a day or two, just to synthesize an antibiotic... It can’t be anything too complicated, based on the atmospheric development…”

He went quiet, ran his own calculations with his eyes downcast, then shot up again when he had his answer. 

“I’m fairly certain it’s staphylococcus,” he said. “Eradicated on earth over a century ago. But before then, it was most commonly transferred in clinical settings, especially in close quarters. It was carried by a large percentage of the population without it ever becoming active.”

“I’ve never heard that term on Bajor, even with my translator,” Owaca offered. “Is it exclusive to humans?”

“But I don’t carry it,” Bashir replied, quickly but not rudely, trying to reach a solution as soon as possible. “It could be a Teplan variety. Doctor Rivek, does any of this sound familiar to you? Come and have a look, please.”

Finally, he provided her with an unobstructed view of Owaca’s hand, and she took her time to study the wound carefully. 

“I can say it’s an infection,” Rivek decided. “But I have seen children who get scrapes on their skin, and I have not seen this develop. We are very careful with the children.”

“Hmm,” said Bashir, sighing. “I won’t bring any of my instruments down to the surface, but Corporal Owaca and I will need to go back to our ship, so I can get a better understanding of what we’re dealing with, here. I won’t turn on any of the equipment until we’re in orbit, so you shouldn’t experience any side effects.” 

In this moment, watching Rali pat her father’s arm while Rivek’s eyes went wide, I realized what it was I originally found fascinating about her. The signs were everywhere: she was nothing more than a frightened child, a pathetic sight I had both seen and acted out, in my own youth. 

Her jaw hung open, and her eyes became impossibly dark. 

“You’d leave?” she demanded. “You  _ can’t  _ leave.”

“Only for a few days,” Bashir said calmly. “I need to. What if this is contagious?”

He gestured down at Owaca’s hand, which she had now folded away beneath her arm. 

“Once I get the infection contained, I’ll come back and finish the inspections,” he went on. “But after that, yes.  _ I  _ will be leaving. We’re going to send a team to stay, though, after I’m gone. They’ll all be able to help you, the same as I have.”

He must’ve seen the same fear in her, because he formed his sentences in the same way he did for his daughter. Keeping actions and their results - not consequences - in clear terms, one after the other. The particular lesson Rivek was learning now was a difficult one, one I had struggled with myself for too many years: our parental figures are not flawless, nor are they required to maintain a permanent presence in our lives. 

I looked at Rali, and offered her a thin smile. I hoped she understood what I felt in that moment, but perhaps it was better if she did not. 

“The same as you have,” echoed Rivek, in the reverent tone she had used with Bashir when they were first introduced. “I need to come to your ship with you.”

“That’s out of the question. The waves put out by the life support system alone would be enough to accelerate your condition.”

Rivek, one of the planet’s leading scientific minds, looked directly at him, and understood.

“So it would be good and bad. I think it’s exactly what you would do.”

Bashir could not argue that, nor could I if I wanted to. She was exactly correct. This was a defining characteristic of a good physician, and I was pleased to see my talk with her had made a lasting impression. 

“Alright,” Bashir said, solemn but not displeased. “I respect that. The transporter’s this way…”

***

As soon as we beamed up, Bashir set to meticulously adjusting the  _ Holana’s  _ electronic outputs. Life support ran at its absolute minimum, leaving the air thin, the room cold, and the overhead lights as dim as they could be. Bashir offered us small, nasal breathing apparatuses to offset the atmosphere manufactured on the ship, and I helped him to put Rali’s on before even thinking to fasten my own. I could have stayed on the surface with her, but it was being away from Bashir in particular which made her inconsolable, so the decision was made for us. Rosser did remain behind, so the Teplans would have some ambassador to speak to, but the rest of us beamed up in a single pattern, minimizing the power used on the surface.

Immediately, it became clear to me how sorely Bashir had missed his triage responsibilities. Despite the tempering of his personality over the years, he could not resist seeing such complicated crisis situations as  _ adventures,  _ but also as places where his expertise and calm demeanor were needed most. He moved with graceful urgency between all of us - his patients - providing precisely the care each of us required. I, for example, was the recipient of an emergency blanket, glowing with warmth as soon as Bashir removed it from its climate-controlled packaging. Rali and her plush toy were checked on frequently, to make sure she was comfortable and entertained enough to let him keep up with his work. She seemed content to sit with me, huddled partially beneath the blanket, watching her breath be caught and recycled by her respirator. 

Then, with his tricorder operating on its lowest setting, he took preliminary readings of Owaca’s infection, while Rivek hovered behind him and asked questions about its origin, its potential to be contagious, the ways in which it could be transferred. Bashir responded patiently to each of these, as he was engaging with a fellow professional who had completed vastly different and less-advanced training courses than he had, and in return he asked her if she was feeling well.

“In my experience, the EM waves can cause an immediate reaction,” he said, apologetically. “Are you experiencing any new symptoms?”

She brought her hands forward and wiggled her fingers, as if testing the sensation. 

“It felt strange to be transported,” she explained. “I think that’s all for now, but I promise to tell you if anything changes.”

“Thank you. If you do start feeling nauseous as a result of the transport, I keep some vanilla-flavored dimenhydrinate tablets on hand for Rali… Elim, if you wouldn’t mind…?”

I fell dutifully into the role of the physician’s assistant, fetching the supplements in question from an overhead storage compartment. Whenever possible, I had found Bashir committed to providing any necessary care to his daughter in a way she could understand and take some amount of control over; he only used hyposprays in rare, extreme cases. I had watched enough times to know she could be supervised and allowed to select one of the tablets - all formed into various animal shapes - and she would chew it carefully and follow it with water, which I took from a rations packet. 

“Thank you,” Bashir said to me, over his shoulder.

I offered the bottle to Rivek, who declined for the time being, so I returned it to its storage compartment. Then, in a sense, I returned to my own: one of the  _ Holana’s  _ shallow-framed biobeds beside Rali. 

“Of course, my dear,” I replied. 

From there, I made myself comfortable and watched the diagnosis as if it were a dramatized performance of one of my favorite cautionary tales. I couldn’t help myself. Bashir was cast as a personal hero of mine, the infection was not deemed to be immediately life-threatening, and the  _ Holana  _ was a place I found homey and relaxing. 

Despite it being of Bajoran construction, Bashir had been intensely involved in the design process, and Kira was adamant he be given almost everything he asked for. At the time the ship was commissioned, it was not clear how much time Bashir would be spending planetside, and it was in fact estimated he would be aboard the  _ Holana  _ for near-continuous transport between Cardassia, Bajor, and the Trill homeworld. It had a bedroom and a dining table arranged to Bashir’s specifications, as well as three biobeds and a range of medical equipment to accommodate the anticipated nature of the ship’s assignments. In effect, it provided not only the opportunity to heal, but the opportunity to become comfortable - for the first time in years, according to many of the desperate patients who passed through it - and it suited Bashir perfectly. Even if I found some of the bright carpeting and geometric wall paneling to be a bit straining on the eyes. 

With the tricorder still operating on a low setting - too quiet for me to even hear, from a few meters away - Bashir confirmed his preliminary diagnosis. 

“It is staphylococcal,” he said. “And I can’t find any evidence to support you carrying it  _ or  _ any natural antibodies to it, Desen.”

Owaca nodded as she followed his thought pattern, looking intrigued despite acting as a test subject. 

“So it isn’t Bajoran?” she deduced. 

Rivek leaned in to study the tricorder - which she was only newly acquainted with - and then Owaca’s hand - which she was finding more personally relevant. 

“Right--” Bashir began. 

“It’s Teplan,” Rivek and Bashir said, at the same time. 

They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, and I sensed from Rivek the same projection of pride which had originally drawn me to Bashir, many years ago.

“Are you still feeling alright?” Bashir asked her, once he decided their eye contact had outlasted his comfort. 

“Yes…”

With this in mind, he made a few adjustments to his tricorder, then illustrated his point for Rivek on the screen. 

“Staphylococcal strains are carried in one or more of an individual’s mucous membranes, but some will go their entire lifetime without the bacteria ever becoming active… but due to the nature of our work, it becomes  _ very easy  _ for the bacteria to spread and activate.”

“We touch these affected areas all the time,” Rivek said, studying the anatomical chart. 

“But, in order for it to activate… generally the infected party will have a lesion of the skin, or another existing condition which compromises their natural immunity…”

He trailed off, as I imagined dozens of ideas occurring to him simultaneously. He would need to sort these out internally, as even  _ he  _ could not speak as quickly as his breakthroughs sometimes warranted. 

“On Earth, staph originated in the soil,” he said, running his hand through the air in illustration of a diagram only he was seeing. “If your population is becoming healthier and living longer, I’m  _ positive  _ that would have lasting impacts on the atmosphere, and then, of course, on the soil and water below. It’s possible some of you have developed an antibody to this particular strain naturally,  _ all on your own _ !”

Now, he turned to look at me, to share the joy in his discovery. 

“And what does that mean, my dear?” I asked, purely to humor him. True, I was not as clinically-inclined as the other passengers on the ship - perhaps even less so than Rali - but I could have made a few educated guesses either way. 

“So many things,” Bashir flashed me a smile, then paced in circles around Rivek and Owaca, sharing with them the pieces they would find most important. “I’m going to have Corporal Rosser conduct some nasal swabs of a sample of the Teplan population - adult and pediatric - and then we’re going to culture those, and see how quickly we can synthesize an effective antibiotic. In the meantime, Desen, I’m going to clean your wound and run a low setting over it with a dermal regenerator. Are you still feeling alright, Doctor Rivek?”

The question must have sounded like a trick to her, because it took her a long moment to respond affirmatively. 

“Once I have access to the cultures, I’ll have a more thorough understanding of it,” Bashir said, “but our time here, so far, seems to suggest you’ve also built up a tolerance to EM waves.”

“And those are… the waves from your instruments?”

“Yes. Of course we’re still going to keep a close eye on any symptoms you might develop, but I anticipate needing at least another 26 hours on the  _ Holana _ . You’re welcome to remain here with us, without any protective equipment.”

At heart, Bashir was a gambler, and the only one I would trust with my life, without question. He approached Rivek with his arms outstretched, palms open in a peaceful offering, and he removed his own breathing mask, then hers. 

“Computer,” he called out, “resume life support functions at normal levels.”

Satisfied that Rivek was both breathing normally and not developing any immediate complications to her blight, he came toward myself and Rali, removing her mask and then, finally, mine. 

As he raised the strap, ruffling my hair despite his best efforts to extricate it carefully from the back of my head, I pressed my forehead to his. With a warm sigh, I gave him my planet’s equivalent to a reverent kiss, and he smiled and laughed into the space between us. 

“What a relief,” I said. 

“I was going to say the same thing,” he said, pulling back only to replace his forehead with his lips. This was a human kiss, and his lips felt soft and warm over the crest of my forehead ridge. 

***

With conditions on the ship becoming warmer and more comfortable for me, I was able to sleep on one of the biobeds for a few hours. Sleep never did come easily to me - nor to Bashir, a fact the two of us would playfully commiserate over even at home. Tonight, though, there was still work to be done before Bashir could make his final recommendations. 

I opened my eyes at several points throughout the night, noticing the lights dimmed overhead to encourage a semi-regular sleep schedule, then sighing fondly to myself about how thoughtful Bashir could be. He had no sense of boundary, which presented itself now in the most pleasant of ways. 

He continued making his rounds, checking on all of us repeatedly. Whenever he found himself temporarily satisfied with our wellbeing, he would sit down in the navigator’s seat and extract data from the samples Rosser sent up to us. When I eventually, properly awoke, he was seated in front of the main computer with Rali in his lap, with Rivek and Owaca a few paces behind. Rivek was using the dermal regenerator on a low setting, and seemed confident enough with this new skill. 

“How are the cultures doing, Doctor?” Rivek asked quietly. 

I sat up in my bed, making it clear I was awake; there was no need to whisper on my behalf. 

“The first batch will be readable in about fifteen minutes,” he said. “The regenerator will keep the topical infection from spreading, at least, and then I’m sure an antibiotic will put an end to the whole affair. How are  _ you  _ doing, Doctor?”

He turned and grinned over his shoulder at Rivek, as I decided to stand and restore the cushions on my bed to their usual arrangement. I shook out the thermal blanket and, finding conditions warm enough for me without it pulled tight over my shoulders, folded it and placed it carefully at the end of the bed. 

“Good,” she replied. “My breathing feels normal, my blood pressure and heart rate are normal according to the tricorder. 

“Wonderful.”

“Will you be able to explain it to me?” she asked. 

“With any luck…” Bashir said, peering somewhat absently into his monitor. “I’m running a few tests on the atmospheric pressure, and if those support our data from the cultures, and some soil samples…”

“You don’t need luck, my dear,” I offered, stepping into the scene. 

“Oh, good morning, Elim.”

“Good morning, Julian. All seems well…?”

“Right on schedule. Can’t complain. In fact, I… I think there might be time for me to put that communication in to Nerys. If you could just watch this screen for me, and let me know when it reaches one-hundred-percent?”

“Certainly, dear.”

Without any sign of struggling, he rose to a standing position, taking Rali with him. He gathered her up close to his chest, and leaned in to pose his question. 

“Rali, would you like to give Aunt Kira a call?”

Owaca had a habit of gasping, and I wished I could think of a more appropriate metaphor than it being fortunate she was not alive during the worst of the Occupation, as such sounds would have betrayed her location every time. 

“Would that be  _ Vedek  _ Kira, Medium of the Emissary?” she asked, in explanation of her surprise. “It isn’t a common name, I was wondering if--”

“Yes,” Bashir said. “Vedek Kira is an old friend of mine. You… wouldn’t care to sit in on the call, by chance, would you?”

Even as he said it, he knew he was asking a simple and almost unnecessary question, but it allowed him to smile because he knew the answer, so I could not find any fault. Owaca took the invitation eagerly, and the three of them left for Bashir’s private room, cordoned off at the back of the ship. 

This meant Rivek and I were left alone, peering into our respective devices, charting progress. She was watching the tricorder, holding it over different parts of her body and then looking at the readings that came up on the screen, while I remained occupied with the less exciting task of watching the data extraction program compute its own progress. But then, when Rivek seemed satisfied with her readings, she leaned in to watch my console with me. 

“Do you know how atmospheric pressure fits into the rest of this?” she asked. 

I did not wish to disappoint her by admitting the sciences were not my field of expertise, so I relied on what little Bashir had already mentioned. 

“The air you breathe can certainly impact your health,” I said kindly. “I imagine the same is true of the soil, and of the bacteria beginning to develop there. You are bearing witness to an early stage of your planet’s development, something the Quickening has otherwise precluded, and something you as a sentient being would have missed by millennia.”

“The Dominion hit your planet pretty hard too, didn’t they? It sounded like th--”

“Yes,” I said. “Forgive the interruption. Yes, they did. We were spared the biological acts of war - I believe the Dominion was too weak to engineer any, by that point - but they burned much of my homeworld beyond recognition. My partner calls the tactic ‘scorched earth.’ We have needed to entirely rebuild our infrastructure, and have relied heavily on artificially-produced food and water sources, while working to rejuvinate the soil with nutrients from outside sources.”

“They went for the soil because that’s what everything grows from,” Rivek said solemnly. “You can’t recover if you can’t eat.”

“That’s very astute,” I replied. “But, at last, and after talking with you, I am beginning to see it as not such a bad thing, after all. It gives us a chance to start over… to keep what aspects of our culture gave us strength, and to do away with those which made us petty and manipulative and violent. We have resiliency and intelligence and a rich history to hold on to, and - ironically enough - we simply lost sight of it until our air became thick with smoke.”

As I took pride in Doctor Rivek beginning to look forward, I realized how much I enjoyed the present. This was a new sensation for me, surely a sign of some growth and introspection of my own, borne of freedom. The fires gave us  _ freedom _ ; I no longer needed to fear for my safety every second of every day. I no longer  _ needed  _ to look both forward and backward, afraid and constantly covering my tracks. Now I was safe, and receiving the aid I needed in improving other aspects of my life. I was my own man, but also part of a network of concerned parties. I could not free myself entirely of contradiction, but that had been a part of me for as long as I could remember.

Just as I was about to voice this, I noticed Rivek looking at me, smiling softly. 

“So it’s good and bad,” she summarized the whole affair, and I could only agree.

“It is. It is.”

There was nothing else to say - another deviation I was beginning to make from old-Cardassian expectation - so we sat in companionable silence, and I watched the progress bar on the screen tick ever upward. When it neared ninety-nine percent, I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see Bashir already approaching; despite all his enhancements, he was never one to have a good handle on his timing. He was practically known for his ability to interrupt at the wrong time, but it seemed ninety-nine percent was too close for him. I had no hope of overhearing his communication from the other end of the ship, nor did I have any desire to intrude on what was likely a very intimate discussion. Anyway, the silence was nice enough to preserve, like a rare artifact at the able hands of a curator. 

I stayed where I was, and I watched the progress bar fill completely. How lovely it was, to sit in peace and reflect on all the progress I had made. But when Bashir and company finally returned, I did not mind the interruption. He was an integral part of this progress, after all, and it was a beautiful reminder to see him again in person. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, right away. “Has it been finished long?”

He took the seat beside me, settling Rali carefully in his lap once he was situated, and then gestured to the progress bar. 

“Only a few minutes, dear. I didn’t want to intrude.”

He touched my shoulder to show his gratitude.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “We were praying.”

I tried to restrain my surprise, but apparently my expression still gave the feeling away.

“That’s how Kira looked, as well, when I asked if I could join her,” Bashir went on. 

“She was so gracious,” Owaca added. “The moment she heard I had an infection, no matter how minor, she wanted to lead a cleansing chant, and Doctor Bashir--”

“I learned all 330 of them,” he said, and I was surprised to learn how much I had missed that look of smug satisfaction in his eye. “She was surprised I  _ could  _ participate, but also that I wanted to. You see, when she and I first met, I had a much poorer understanding of alien cultures. I was treating her home like an unexplored frontier for me to play around and practice medicine in.”

“She said I have the  _ pagh  _ of a good midwife,” Owaca added, almost dreamily.

“You do,” Bashir agreed. 

“Well, I’m sure Vedek Kira was thrilled to see that change in you,” I said approvingly, having benefited from the same development myself. “It was your underlying selflessness, which helped you adapt to the different needs of others.”

“Thank you, Elim,” he said, half-jokingly. “And, er… speaking of…?”

“Frontier medicine?” I prompted, in the same sly tone. 

“Not quite,” he drummed his fingers while he thought. “Speaking of  _ practicing  _ medicine, let’s see what these nasal swabs and soil samples have to tell us.”

Rivek leaned in from her chair, toward us. 

“Both good and bad about the atmosphere, won’t they?” she reaffirmed what she had learned, thus far. 

“Yes, absolutely,” Bashir replied, grinning. 

He scrolled through the hundreds of charts of swab findings at a pace too quick even for me, then read the components of the soil to himself. None of us dared disturb him as he worked; instead, we watched and marvelled. 

“It seems a good percentage of your population has inactive staph bacteria in their systems. It’s present in both adults and children… my guess is it has always been present in the soil, but the Quickening didn’t give it sufficient time to develop mutations across Teplan hosts.”

“It’s curable, though, isn’t it?” Rivek asked.

“Yes. Quite easily at this early stage, in fact. The medical replicator in my bedroom is putting together an antibiotic for it as we speak. After I’ve administered it to Corporal Owaca, you can accompany her to make sure it’s distributed to every patient we saw for prenatal exams, who might be symptomatic.”

“Accompany?” Rivek asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Owaca smiled. “Vedek Kira was gracious enough to give me her blessing, so my wife and I are going to stay here. And so is Corporal Rosser, for a couple weeks. Doctor Bashir was suggesting a team be assigned to monitor your medical facilities, anyway…”

“And for replacing us when we die,” Rivek said, not entirely sadly. 

“Well, that’s the other thing,” Bashir replied, and from the way he tipped his head toward her and went on grinning, I knew he more good news to distribute. “All of these new bacterial developments in the soil, and the increasing strength of the atmosphere… I can leave behind a full set of my medical equipment, and you should see improvements in both longevity and in quality of life.”

“The instruments with the EM waves?” Rivek was curious. 

“Yes. The ‘EM’ is for ‘Electromagnetic’ output, and based on your apparent lack of symptoms and this report on atmospheric components, it doesn’t seem the magnetic field is strong enough to have any impact on the Blight, on a molecular level. The air is… stronger, so to speak,” he concluded.

“That’s amazing!” Rivek replied. 

“But it won’t cure you. I  _ cannot  _ get rid of the Blight completely. But you can use these new devices to diagnose other infections you might come across, and to administer medication…”

“I wasn’t expecting a cure, Doctor,” Rivek sounded serious. “I don’t doubt it, anymore. That you did try everything you could for us.”

“That’s right,” Bashir said patiently. “ _ You _ are evolving and getting better on your own, I had little to do with  _ that _ .” 

I knew this was untrue - his saving of every child on the planet supported my belief - but I remained quiet. Rivek did not. 

“But you’re going to make us as healthy and comfortable as you can, even after you leave. Because you’re a great doctor.”

He was near enough for me to feel the heat rush to his cheeks, as they betrayed his love of being praised. It was generally not difficult for him to earn, but now, since it came from such a hard-fought source, such a previously-unhappy patient…

“I like to think so,” he said quietly. Then, to break some of the attention away from himself, he added, “If you do have any complications, I can leave a communications array with you, as well. It won’t be the most advanced, but you can reach us on Cardassia without a problem, if you need us. Desen will show you how.”

He nodded in indication of Owaca, then stood - carefully balancing Rali, as always - and led her back to his private room. 

“Let’s see about that antibiotic, Desen. I’ll help you pack your things.”

I found myself alone with Doctor Rivek once again, a repetitive act I did not mind in the slightest. Recurring themes were rooted deeply in my culture, in the part I wanted to carefully preserve. 

“He really is great,” Rivek assured me. 

“Oh, I know. I try to remind him as often as he can bear.”

“You’re a good man too, Ambassador Garak.”

I stared down and smiled thinly, crookedly, but I had been taught better than to argue a point like this. 

“Thank you,” I said, simply. 

When she stood, she touched my shoulder more hesitantly than Bashir had done, but with the same sentiment behind her. She went to meet Owaca on the ship’s transporter pad, eagerly offering to help her carry her personal effects, and I watched with a sense of pride as Bashir gave the command for transport. 

He came to sit beside me, lodging Rali gently into my lap, this time. Then he sighed, tired but clearly satisfied with our charitable excursion. I felt his hand fumbling for mine, holding it alongside Rali’s back, lending all of us a simultaneous feeling of safety and belonging. 

“It seems Lucifer redeemed himself,” I ventured to say, and Bashir turned to look at me with his eyebrows raised.

“No, by all accounts I’ve heard, he was never even given a chance. I was more fortunate, and I had an indispensable ally on my side.”

“Surely you aren’t casting  _ me  _ as the divine?” I asked, blinking at him with comical understatement.

“You don’t have to be purely good, to be good enough for me,” he assured me, with a warm smile. 

We sat quietly for a few moments, basking in our appreciation of one another. Then, I felt a peculiar rhythm on my wrist. When I looked down to investigate, I noticed Rali’s fingers - not Bashir’s - were responsible. 

“Julian…” I said softly, hoping he would watch and explain for me. I knew I could not ignore Rali completely; it would be unforgivably rude. “Rali, sweetheart, I don’t know the letters.”

Bashir offered his palm for her, but she did not want it yet. 

“Audrid,” she told him, as if this meant he should be patient. “And Tobin’s plates.”

I felt the same pattern being repeated. It was short and simple, but still a foreign language to me. Perhaps I could repeat a similar sensation on Bashir’s hand, myself, but I feared I did not know the syntax well enough to do so accurately. That would be casting myself as an interpreter of two of my non-native languages, one which I had learned only as hearsay from a young child, and the other which I learned at a complex level from an unmatched scientific mind. Surely I could say nothing  _ both  _ of them would find intelligible. Unless…

“Is that…  _ my name _ , sweetheart?” I asked her. 

“Taya Elim,” Rali said, in what I could only hope was confirmation. 

“Audrid and Tobin Dax were both  _ excellent  _ parents,” Bashir said. “I… would assume she sees you in a similar fashion?”

“Yes, but how does she know the first thing about them?” I asked. 

“Oh, I’m  _ sure  _ she and Dax communicated in a way similar to this, in the womb,” Bashir said, as if this was not some marvelous new discovery.

I tried to hold back my amazement, too, for his benefit. I knew he would refuse to make any study subject out of his daughter, and I respected that conviction deeply. Vedek Kira was absolutely right about him, I had to concede. 

“Elim  _ Dax _ ,” Rali went on, and I was sure that was exactly what her fingers were spelling.

“Thank you,” I said to her. “ _ Thank you _ . I won’t disappoint you.”

“You won’t,” Bashir assured me. “She must think you’re an  _ angel _ .”

We laughed together, relieving the tension, and set a course for our shared  _ home _ .


End file.
